The Meaning of Two Songs
by DuchessRaven
Summary: It was on a cold winter day that they discovered a certain talent they both shared. AxI


AUTHOR'S NOTE: the lyrics for the two main songs in this story are listed at the very end.

Enjoy & Review!!

THE MEANING OF TWO SONGS

Snow fell that morning, starting at the break of dawn.

By afternoon England was covered in a soft white blanket. Snow boots crunched in the powdery white. Children raced each other out of homes and schoolyards, shouting in excitement and tossing snowballs at each other, occasionally wandering into traffic and giving apprehensive drivers quite a fright. There was a quiet serenity that fell over the land, carried by the fresh, frosty air, caressing every red cheek and chilly nose.

Integra Hellsing stood at the widest window in the mansion's halls, her shoulder leaning against the cold glass. Raising one gloved hand, she drew a line in the foggy surface. She wanted to write something, but it seemed a childish thing to do, so she left the line there. When she was little, she used to stand at this window, sometimes with her father, sometimes with Walter, and draw faces and hearts on the glass. Once, her father wrote her name.

She had thrown a thick, warm sweater over her suit. It was his sweater, old, gray, and much too large for her frame. When he was alive, he always wore it when the weather became old, even to Convention meetings, despite the fact that it was horrendously inappropriate, practically a rag. But he never cared. And now she wore it whenever it snowed. It still carried his scent.

The mansion was quiet. Most of the staff had been given time off to spend with their families for the holiday season. The younger soldiers who stuck around were in their bunker, taking turns getting drunk off bottles of schnapps pilfered from the kitchen. The holidays was the one time the boss lady looked the other way. They didn't know, of course, that it was because she wished she could also drink her troubles away.

Leaving the window, she descended the stairs, her footsteps echoing in the vast halls. Walter and Seras had gone out. It was rare for the police girl to venture out, but it was obvious she desired to relish in the Christmas spirit along with the humanity she was no longer a part of. The quiet was calming. Integra welcomed it. It was nice to be left alone with her thoughts.

That was, until a peculiar sound wafted into the air.

She stopped on the first floor of the mansion. At first, it sounded like one of the maids had left a radio on. But upon closer inspection, she realized it was a voice.

Warm and thick, it trickled like honey through her mind. Curious, she followed it, seeking its source. But the entire ground floor was devoid of humans. No maids, no cooks, no soldiers. Not a single human to be found.

But that did not hinder her search. After all, she knew where to find the house's inhuman resident.

Her father's sweater wrapped tightly about her body, she ventured into the dark dungeons. The cold had found its way down here and made a home for itself. The walls and floor were like ice. Her breaths formed little puffs of white before dissipating. As she drew closer to the rarely-visited room, she heard music. There was no light, not even a candle, as its inhabitant did not require one. She had to feel her way to the door.

Even in the dark, his presence was clear. She could see his silhouette in the shadows, tall and stately. He had also noticed her, as he placed a gentle hand on the old record player, stopping it. She waited as he lit a candle, his pale face washed in the soft orange light.

"Good afternoon, master," he said politely. Despite the cold, he was wearing only a white shirt and black slacks in addition to his boots, his blood-colored coat tossed unceremoniously on top of his black coffin. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Eyeing the record player, she let her lips roll into a teasing smile. "Was that you I hear?"

She expected him to deny it. After all, the No Life King was a prideful creature. He would most likely not wish for his master to know of his small indulgences. To her surprise, however, he met her blue eyes with his red, and replied, "yes, master. That was me."

Confidence. Honesty. It pleased her. She stepped inside the cold room, pulling the sweater tighter to keep from shivering. The dungeon was like an ice box. There was only a single chair in the room. But instead of taking it, she sat down on his coffin. It always seemed more… welcoming.

"I never knew you had such a voice in you."

He smirked. "It is not a talent I found useful to share."

She glanced at the record player. It was at least twice her age. Perhaps a gift from her father before her birth? "Tell me of the song."

"Is that an order?"

"Yes."

Crossing the room, Alucard removed the record and set it aside. "_Svegliatevi nel core_," he said. "From _Giulio Cesare,_ by British Baroque composer Georg Friedrich Händel. This particular aria was written for the role 'Sesto', who sang it to assure his mother that he will avenge his father's, who was assassinated by the Egyptian."

"Cheery." She breathed out, leaving another little puff of white. The candlelight wavered. "You seem to know it well. Does it hold significance for you?"

He shrugged, which was actually rather humorous to see.

"It's a song of vengeance. You have had many enemies in the past and present."

Alucard strolled slowly around the chair, as if thinking. "Perhaps. But at this point vengeance holds no place in my world. I have no way to carrying it out, nor do I intend to. After all, the majority of my enemies have long passed, and it is unlikely that the remaining ones will outlive me. No, I merely like this one for the tone of the tenor. There are others I am more partial to."

She leaned against the wall, but its cold seeped through her clothing instantly, so she bent forward instead, elbow on her knees. "Sing for me."

He gave her a startled look, though not as startled as she'd anticipated. "Sing?"

"Sing."

"Here?"

"Here and now." She folded her hands over her knees. "I wish to know of the song you are partial to."

He eyed her for the long moment, then took a step to the open space in the center of the room. For a while he did nothing, and she thought he was refusing her request, but then he lifted his head, and she realized he was preparing. It was a show. Just for her.

Then, he began to sing.

The icy room burst with warmth. It was as if his voice carried a fire that lit the cold walls, rich and more than enchanting. Though she did not understand his words, they drowned out her senses, smothered them like sweet, heavy cream. Never in her life had she imagined her servant to possess such a talent, one that did not involve the pointed barrel of a gun.

She closed her eyes. The song washed over her like the rolling tide. She reveled in it. Whether he had used magic to enhance her experience, she didn't know, nor care.

It took her a moment to realize he had finished. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and saw him looking at her in curiosity and amusement. Raising her hands, which felt warm and weak, she clapped. He smiled. Perhaps it was the tricks of the candlelight, but she thought she could see a trace of color on his face.

"Brava." She wanted to say something more, but nothing seemed appropriate. "I wish I understood more of the language. It is Italian, correct?"

He nodded. "_Libiamo ne'lieti calici_, the most famous aria fromVerdi's_ La traviata_."

"What is the meaning of the title?"

He looked away, almost shyly. "It means 'drinking song'."

She chuckled, as did he. Their laughter echoed off the walls. "I am surprised that you picked such a song."

"And why is that?"

"I understood only select words. It has been years since my last Italian lesson. I understood 'love', 'joy', 'beauty', and 'ecstasy'. Assuming it is not speaking in irony, it's a song celebrating the good things in life. Am I wrong?"

"Not in the least." He met her eyes once more, searching her mind. "You find it ironic that a creature such as me would select a song that celebrates life and love."

"I do."

"Does it really surprise you so? To know that, despite my passion for bloodshed and gunpowder, to still hold a candle for the good things humans find in life? I suppose I cannot fault you for it. It's a little surprising to me, too."

Integra crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. Somehow, it didn't feel so cold anymore. "But that is not the question, is it? The question is, are you ashamed of that fact? Does it surprise you because it's a hard fact to admit to yourself?"

"What would you say if I said 'yes'?"

She shrugged. "I would say, 'seems the No Life King has a trace of humanity left after all."

"I can live with that," he replied, sitting down in the lone chair and smirking a tad at the irony embedded in those words. "And now, master, it's your turn to return the favor."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Excuse me?"

"I have performed for you, now it's time for you to perform for me."

Integra scoffed. "I don't remember ever making such a promise."

"You didn't. I am merely making a request, as you made one of me."

"It was an order."

Resting his hand on the back of the chair, he leered at her. Actually leered. It made her uneasy, as if he thought it inevitable that she would cave to his request. Not intending to let him win, she held his gaze with her own.

"I don't sing," she said firmly.

"There is no one here, master, aside from the two of us. Are you afraid that I would tell someone else of this little indulgence? Besides, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You and I both know you are capable of it."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I have my ways." She hated it when he was smug. "Besides, you clearly stated that you 'don't' sing, not that you 'can't' sing, which means you are very well aware of your own ability. What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid of you, if that's what you're driving at."

"Then why not?"

She sighed, straightened, and dropped her arms to her sides. It had been a very long time since she sang out loud, at least within earshot of another human being. Hell, it had been ages since she even listened to music for pleasure. The last time she did so, her father was still live, and he taken her to a stage show that had since forever made permanent residence in her memories. After his death, the songs still stayed with her, but now they were part of him, part of his presence in her heart, much like the old sweater.

Her lips parted slightly, then a little more. She closed her eyes and let the words pour forth from her.

The world stood still as she sang, time stopped to listen, as did the vampire king. The air seemed to cease movement, turning thick and cool, like a crystal pool. Her voice danced, turning about midair like playful nightingales.

When it was done, she felt heat on her face, though it was comforting. Her heart pounded. The look Alucard was giving her suddenly made her feel rather self-conscious.

"_Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again_," he said. "Act II, Phantom of the Opera."

She nodded.

"If I may say so, master, Christine Daae herself could not have sung it better. Though I must say, you are quite the hypocrite."

She sneered. "And how do you figure that?"

"You hide your talent because you feel it may make you appear vulnerable in the eyes of others, and yet, the first song you choose is one that showcases your innermost desire. I think it shows that part of you has always wanted someone to hear you sing that song. It must be hard to deny how much you miss your Arthur."

"I never denied it."

"You never showed it either. Until now, that is." There was an earnestness in his voice she had never heard before. "You don't have to hide it, master. Every now and then, I miss him, too." He paused. "Although you do fill out that sweater a lot better than he ever did."

Integra laughed. It was all so… fitting. She stood from the coffin. The movement brought a chill to her body, and suddenly she remembered how cold it was. Seeing her shudder, Alucard stood, took a hold of his coat, and laid it over her shoulders.

"I think Walter and the police girl will be back soon."

"I should head up to make sure they don't go overboard with the Christmas decorations then." She peeked over her shoulder at the door. "Perhaps you ought to prepare a piece for next year's performance."

He was laying a new record on the record player. "Next time, master, it shall be a serenade."

oOo

LYRICS

**Libiamo ne' lieti calici**

Italian

Libiamo, libiamo ne'lieti calici  
che la belleza infiora.  
E la fuggevol ora s'inebrii  
a voluttà.  
Libiamo ne'dolci fremiti  
che suscita l'amore,  
poiché quell'ochio al core omnipotente va.  
Libiamo, amore fra i calici  
più caldi baci avrà.

Translation

Let's drink,  
Let's drink from this chalice of joy  
That beauty of enhances  
Let's drink from the sweet  
May the fleeting instant  
Be given over voluptuousness  
Let's drink to that sweet ecstasy  
That love arouses  
The power of the piercing eyes  
Straight from heart is aimed  
Let's drink to love, and our drinking  
Will render our kisses more ardent

**Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again **

You were once  
my one companion . . .  
you were all  
that mattered . . .  
You were once  
a friend and father -  
then my world  
was shattered . . .

Wishing you were  
somehow here again . . .  
wishing you were  
somehow near . . .  
Sometimes it seemed  
if I just dreamed,  
somehow you would  
be here . . .

Wishing I could  
hear your voice again . . .  
knowing that I  
never would . . .  
Dreaming of you  
won't help me to do  
all that you dreamed  
I could . . .

Passing bells  
and sculpted angels,  
cold and monumental,  
seem, for you,  
the wrong companions -  
you were warm and gentle . . .

Too many years  
fighting back tears . . .  
Why can't the past  
just die . . .?

Wishing you were  
somehow here again . . .  
knowing we must  
say goodbye . . .  
Try to forgive . . .  
teach me to live . . .  
give me the strength  
to try . . .

No more memories,  
no more silent tears . . .  
No more gazing across  
the wasted years . . .  
Help me say  
goodbye.


End file.
